Deliverance
by cherryblossomcanopy
Summary: Lisbon receives a letter from Red John. Rated T for strong language
1. Chapter 1

So this was inspired by Lizzybeth93's story Journey's End. All credit to her for the idea of the letter and the 7 days :). I just couldn't get the idea out of my head and so I finally decided to write a fanfic, my second one ever. I have been reading so many brilliant fics on this site so really you have all inspired me. I must say though I used to find it much easier to write back in high school, and yet this was quite hard. Hopefully by doing this I will get my groove back. Enjoy, more to come :)

Don't own anything, I am just a poor student not a wealthy TV producer.

* * *

"Jane… tell me you didn't…?"

Lisbon's hoarse whisper broke the silence in the bullpen. Five sets of eyes were trained on one sheepish consultant. One very dishevelled, muddy consultant, wry smile resembling a caught-out child, smelling slightly of … horse manure?

"I assure you, this will all work out fine. Just a slight setback… just need to plan a little more, cast a wide net and - "

"Your cover's been blown, Sherlock" Cho remarked dryly. It was true. Their airtight case against one David Marr, livery yard owner and part time serial killer, painstakingly compiled and waiting on a warrant to ensure an arrest, had been blown apart five minutes earlier with a phone call from the D.A. to Hightower. Marr had lawyered up and was threatening to file against the agency, claiming substantial property damage and attempted theft of a prized horse by an agent Wayne Rigsby of the CBI.

The agent in question was standing dumbstruck, and fuming, next to an even more irate Director Hightower. Van Pelt looked dismayed, the promise of a payoff for her hours of hard work now dissolved in one fell swoop.

Cho and Lisbon just looked resigned, unsurprised.

"Impersonating a state agent is a serious offence, Mr Jane. One which you have been charged with before. I can only assume you have no interest in learning from your past experiences with regards to this. Don't interrupt."

As Jane bit back a response, Hightower took a breath. And another. She shifted her glare to Lisbon whose eyes were now downcast.

"According to the D.A., you entered Mr Marr's property alone this afternoon and introduced yourself as Agent Rigsby to the stable hand. You flashed a fake warrant and confounded the poor girl with an elaborate misdirection. You then let yourself into a locked barn using illegal techniques, handled an expensive animal without permission, and then lost control of it causing a great deal of damage to the barn and who knows what kind of damage to the horse, if they ever retrieve it from the state forest. And do I even need to ask agent Lisbon if she was aware of your actions at the time?"

Lisbon glanced up at Jane, then met her superior's eyes. The uncomfortable silence was a clear answer. Hightower continued.

"Didn't think so. Through your actions Mr Jane, you have irredeemably impaired the case your team had built around the suspect, which was relying on Mr Marr's complete ignorance of any such suspicion against him. Which was also relying on evidence we were waiting on a warrant to collect. Evidence which will surely now be destroyed. So what, Jane, were you bored? What exactly inspired you to do this?"

For the first time in a long time, Patrick Jane could only feel ashamed. "I'm sorry, I just… uh… I wanted to close the case. Sorry guys…" He raised his eyes to meet Hightower's gaze, sure that she knew why he was impatient. Unsure of what her response would be. It was an uncomfortable feeling for Patrick to be unsure of anything. A feeling he was experiencing far too often lately.

After a long pause, Hightower spoke again. "Look, it's late, and I'm missing my son's birthday party. I don't even want to look at you right now Patrick, much less know what to do with you. You're all dismissed, we'll continue this tomorrow." Without so much as a further glance, she strode out of the bullpen.

The team stood in awkward silence for a few moments. Finally Rigsby straightened, stepped towards Jane and held out his hand. Jane wordlessly handed back Rigsby's pickpocketed ID and badge. "Not cool, man" Rigsby muttered, and with a nod to his boss and colleagues, grabbed his jacket and walked away. Grace offered a shy goodnight, and followed suit. Cho met Lisbon's gaze, and when she flashed him a tight smile he also took his cue to leave. Lisbon the wordlessly turned to pack up the files spread out on the table behind them. Jane waited.

"You know, it's one thing to constantly betray my trust. I'm responsible for you, and I've come to expect it. It's another thing entirely to jeopardise the careers of your colleagues like you did today." Turning back to face him, she smiled bitterly. "And I'm not even surprised."

"So why don't you go on up to your attic now and think about Red John. Now that there aren't any other silly little homicide cases to distract you." Her voice was quiet, icy; yet her words seemed to linger in the empty room.

Jane said nothing. He couldn't deny that that was exactly what he planned to do. Yet he truly regretted the day's events. And he was shocked at how guilty he felt for causing Lisbon to look at him the way she was right now. And for once he was too tired to put on a mask. Or maybe he just didn't want to lie to her again.

"Goodnight Jane". she turned on her heel and strode into her office. Locking the files in the cabinet, she grabbed her keys and her jacket and left.

Jane glanced at the empty bullpen, his couch, Louis the night janitor making his way round the corner at the far end of the hall. And then he turned and made his way up to the attic.

* * *

It was just after nine when Lisbon arrived at the door to her apartment, fumbling with the stack of mail in her hand and she tried to find the right key. Shouldering open the heavy door, she dumped the mail on a small table next to the dorrway and leaned back against the door to shut it. Sighing she tossed her jacket over the couch and headed straight into the kitchen.

With the kettle on the stove to boil she hastily changed out of her work blouse and pants into her favourite pair of yoga pants and faded Minnie Mouse t-shirt her 7 year old nephew had meticulously picked out for her on vacation in Florida the year before. One that she would never admit to wearing so often or ever leave the house in. She realised how tired she was as she heard the kettle begin to whistle in the next room. Stowing her gun in the safe next to her bed, she padded out to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, frozen dinner in the microwave and coffee brewing on the counter, she retrieved the stack of envelopes from near the door. Yawning, she rifled through them - cell phone bill, bank statement, notice from the landlord of planned development behind the complex. The last one was a plain white envelope, she assumed a letter from her brother, although the writing was a little neater than usual, maybe from his wife Amy… wait there was no address on it. Just her name in neat cursive, black pen. Whoever it was from had hand delivered it.

While this was odd, Lisbon figured it must be from one of her neighbours. She pealed back the seal of the envelope and slide her fingers inside to pull out the letter, suddenly feeling a sharp stinging pain in her fingers. Before her brain realised the cause of it bright drops of blood spattered the back of the envelope and the paper in her hand. She flung them both on the counter in alarm and saw a glint of a razor blade tucked just inside the opening of the envelope. Looking down she saw blood pooling on the kitchen tiles and scrambled to the sink. Under the flow of water she could see the blade had sliced deeply into her index and middle fingers. She reached for a towel and wrapped her hand up tightly.

Completely alarmed now, she moved back over to the letter and, taking a fork out of the drawer, used it to carefully turn it over and unfold it on the counter. Inside was just a few more lines written in the same cursive script as on the front.

_In what distant deeps or skies_

_ Burnt the fire in thine eyes? _

_On what wings dare he aspire?_

_ What the hand dare seize the fire?_

And at the bottom of the page was a very familiar signature, a sinister smiley face scrawled in red marker. And two more words:

_Seven days._

Lisbon let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding, and tried to think clearly. But she couldn't push down the awful realisation rising in her throat. Red John had been outside her apartment. He'd brought this letter and put it in her mailbox. Oh God he'd put a razor blade inside… one of his blades...

A shrill beeping made her jump and whirl around. Her microwave was screeching for her attention. Flipping the door open to silence it she rushed straight past and back into her bedroom, punching in the safe code lightning fast and retrieving her weapon. She grabbed her cell and moved straight back into the kitchen. Laying the gun on the table in front of her, her trembling fingers sought out a familiar speed dial.

to be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews guys, they are very encouraging. Made me feel a little less foolish for having practised opening an envelope in order to write the first chapter :p

Sorry this is a little shorter... I will update again soon. I'm also bumping this up to M, because i'm not sure what counts as minor language. This chap is pretty tame, but there will definately be strong language in the future.

I do not own The Mentalist.

* * *

Hightower answered on the third ring. "Agent Lisbon, I hope you're not calling to discuss the situation today, I already told you -"

"No ma'am. I'm sorry to call so late. This is, uh, something else."

Hightower was instantly alert. It wasn't usual for Lisbon to stutter. "Go on."

"I, um, I received a letter from Red John"

This information was met with silence, and then a soft exhalation. "Describe this letter."

Lisbon felt herself reverting into her business mode, and she found this calming. Deal with the facts, think about the feelings later. "Ordinary white envelope, handwritten in black felt tip. Neat writing. No return address, no stamp. Razor blade hidden on the inside edge." Suddenly her hand was throbbing all over again. Looking down she saw blood seeping through the towel. _That's going to need stitches…_

She continued. "…uh, then there's a note, unlined white A4 paper, folded twice." _Fingerprints? Probably not… _"Same handwriting. I think it's a poem… and there is a signature at the bottom"

"Read it out." Lisbon did so, and marvelled at how calm her voice sounded compared to the storm of anxiety that was building inside her. Her mind was racing with so many different thoughts: Red John knew where she lived, did he know where her brothers, their families lived… oh God … the team… Jane. _What will Jane do when he finds out…_

Seven days… until what? Where had she heard this poem before?

The voice of her superior cut into her thoughts. "How was it delivered?"

Right, the facts.

"By hand, to my mailbox"

"Have you checked your apartment"

Shit… no. She wasn't thinking clearly. "Uh, not thoroughly, no…" Lisbon picked up her glock in her left hand, swapping the cell to her injured right, and started walking to the next room, trying to calm her heart beating frantically in her chest. This should have been the first thing she had done. _Damn it, Teresa, if he got to your mailbox, of course he could have broken in!_

"That's alright, Agent. One thing at a time. Are you armed?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Ok, I want you to hang up and check the house thoroughly. Call back once your done. Secure all entrances. I'm on my way."

Cursing herself for neglecting to secure the apartment, Lisbon moved methodically from room to room, her cop training blissfully taking over and giving her brain something tangible to deal with. Living room, clear. Bedroom (the closet), clear. Bathroom and laundry clear, windows latched. The small balcony off the hallway was undisturbed, the door locked firmly. Still, she was on edge. Red John had been undeterred by much more advanced security systems in the past. But she was now confident that there was no one in the apartment besides herself. Her place was on the first floor, with no nearby trees although there was a rickety fire escape off the balcony. The noise it made at the slightest of footfalls was comfort enough that she was not likely to be surprised from that direction. She double latched both doors and rechecked all the windows anyway.

_Ok, think. Apartment secure, check again for evidence of intrusion. _Starting in the bedroom, she searched for anything out of place. A vague task at the best of times, and she doubted that Red John, had he been her, would have been likely to target the usual valuable items. Still she went through her jewellery, desk drawer, safe, bathroom cabinet… while sorting through bottles of aspirin and mouth wash she realised the absurdity of the task… _why would an intruder steal from the bathroom cabinet?_ She almost laughed aloud.

Closing the cabinet door she caught sight of herself in the mirror and stilled. Her reflection was sobering; her face was flushed slightly and she realised she was holding her breath. She stared back at herself for a few moments and concentrated on breathing calmly. She brought her hand up to push her hair back out of her face and caught sight of the mess of blood soaking the tea towel. It was enough to remind her of the stinging pain and she felt the blood rush from her head. She managed to sit down heavily on the edge of the bathtub and laid her head on her knees, until the feeling passed. Then, standing gingerly, she rummaged though the cupboard with her left hand and found her first aid kit.

With a little difficulty she was able to unwrap and re-dress her fingers, still bleeding steadily, with her left hand. She cleaned up around the edge of the sink but left the soaked towel in the basin - the sight of it was making her sick and she would just have to deal with it later.

Lisbon made her way back to the living room and instantly saw something that made her blood run cold. On top of her bookshelf she kept a collection of framed photographs. One was of her brothers when they were in high school. A few of her Disney-mad nephew, Jack, growing up. Jack was the only child of her youngest brother James Lisbon and his wife Amy. Teresa's other brother Dean, closest to her in age, had not yet been blessed with a child though she knew he and his wife had been trying for years. Little Jack was pretty treasured amongst all of them.

Her last brother Tommy she hadn't spoken to in years.

The last frame held the most recent photograph, taken at the CBI new years party. It was of the team gathered around Jane's beloved couch. Rigsby, Van Pelt and Jane were seated, smiling up at the camera. Cho was leaning on the edge of the couch and showing a hint of a smile for the occasion. Teresa was the only one not looking directly at the camera, having been surprised at the last moment by Hightower who had walked into the shot from the side. Her face is slightly turned towards her boss and she's smiling broadly in greeting and holiday spirit. Teresa remembered the night fondly, specifically the surprise of seeing a new side to the usually unyielding CBI Chief. Hightower had been warm and conversational the entire evening. It was the first time Teresa had felt like she could let her guard down, and maybe even be friends, with her boss.

Now, though, her own face was barely visible for the smiley face scrawled in red marker over it.

Before she had time to contemplate this, her intercom buzzed loudly for her attention.

She hit the button on the wall. "Lisbon"

Hightower's voice came through the speaker. She buzzed her in.


	3. Chapter 3

Well I broke my first fanfic promise of updating quickly. *shame* Life gets in the way... Anyway I had planned to have more for you but I got a bit stuck. Don't worry though I know where this is going, it's just the getting there that's hard. Some paragraphs write themselves, other times it's a struggle to finish a sentence.

I don't own anything. Maybe Eric.

* * *

_In what distant deeps or skies …_

Hightower subconsciously slipped a pair of gloves on to refill the kettle and set it back down to boil. She'd called in a forensics team once it was clear that someone had been inside the apartment. Now they waited, Lisbon sitting vacantly at the kitchen table, rain dancing lightly on the window, and the situation called for a cup of tea.

"Nice shirt." Madeleine quirked her eyebrows as placed the mugs down on the table, and Lisbon suddenly felt a little mortified that she was still wearing the ridiculous Minnie Mouse shirt in front of her boss. The familiar blush came over her cheeks and then she caught Hightower's eye and suddenly it seemed like the funniest thing in the world… she couldn't contain her amusement and soon they were both laughing openly, until Lisbon's eyes watered and Hightower regained her usual composure. After a moment she spoke.

"Send a text to your agents, they are to be at the office for a meeting, - six thirty. They'll assume it is regarding Patrick. We will instead brief them on the situation at hand and any further material we have obtained by the morning."

"What about Jane, ma'am?"

Hightower looked down at the table. She had been thinking the same thing. _What about Jane…?_ "How much do you know about his intentions?"

"He plans to kill Red John. And he's very determined…"

"You've discussed this with him?"

"A number of times, yes"

Hightower sighed softly. "He's also the best chance we have of catching him."

Lisbon didn't argue. There was no denying Jane's brilliance.

"We'll brief the team first. Don't ask Jane to come in early, I'll contact him in the morning and have him meet with me later. We need him on our side, but I can't risk him taking matters into his own hands."

_Easier said than done…_

"Lisbon, I have to perceive this as a pretty clear threat to your safety, and by association that of your team. There are protocols for this type of situation. However, Red John has, in the past, been undeterred by CBI protocol"

She looked Teresa directly in the eyes. "You are aware of Laroche's current investigation. You may not be aware that myself, Laroche, director Bertram… have long suspected the persisted presence of a Red John informant within the CBI."

This came as a surprise to Lisbon. But then, she reasoned, it was not unlikely. No one had suspected Rebecca…

"You think Todd Johnson's death had something to do with Red John?"

"I do"

Lisbon waited, sensing that Hightower was conflicted.

"I have no intention of forcing you into Witness Protection. It seems much more prudent to have you all at hand."

Her underlying message was clear. _I don't trust in the security of Protective Services. I won't reassign this case to another team… after last time. This may be our best chance of catching Red John._

"I want to work this case ma'am." _I want to end this…_

"Ok then."

They sipped their tea. The forensics team arrived.

* * *

_"Hey guys, Hightower wants us at the office early tomorrow, 6:30. See you then. _

_Lisbon" _

Fifteen minutes later Hightower enlisted one of the junior forensic techs to drive Lisbon to the ER to get stitches. Her argument fell on deaf ears and she was soon winding through the Sacramento late night traffic accompanied by Eric, a gangly, fair haired, mid twenties Slayer enthusiast who seemed to think she was incredibly interested in the influence of early eighties heavy metal bands on the current music scene. When they arrived she took the opportunity to thank him for the ride, no she didn't need him to wait with her and maybe he should get back to working the crime scene as soon as possible. Passing through the automatic doors, she glanced at her phone. Three messages.

_"Sure thing boss. -Rigsby"_

_"No problem boss, I'll pick up coffee on my way :) - VP"_

_"Ok. - Cho" _

She cracked a small smile at the good natures of her team. They were all hard workers, and with a pang of guilt she realised they were now all in danger. Just like Bosco's team…

Coming back to the present, she took in the motley crowd of sick and injured assembled in the waiting room, and resigned herself for a long wait.


	4. Chapter 4

Ok here is chapter 4. I've finally gotten to writing some of the other characters, yay! No Jane yet, but next chap I promise. Thanks so much for all your amazing reviews, they really encourage me!

Don't own anything.

* * *

It was 6:23 am as Grace Van Pelt stepped into the elevator, balancing a full tray of coffees and a trace of apprehension for the morning's meeting. While she was fairly certain that she wasn't in any trouble herself, she had no clue as to Hightower's intentions. Or whether it would be Jane or Lisbon copping the fallout this time. In spite of Jane's reckless behaviour, she couldn't imagine the team without him. She hoped for the best. Maybe it was naïve, but she reasoned that it could never hurt to have a cheerful attitude and a fresh coffee for everyone at this time of the morning.

Arriving at their floor she found Cho leaning against his desk, book in hand. She handed over his long black and glanced at the cover. "Wuthering Heights? I loved that in High School!"

"Mmhhmm."

Cho sensed Grace's lingering gaze. "It's very… passionate. Thank you for the coffee."

Grace gave a bright smile. "No problem. It's from Marie's."

Cho put down his Bronte and picked up his coffee. Grace sipped her soy latte. They stood in amiable silence for a moment, and then Grace gestured to Hightower's office. Through the blinds they could her standing behind her desk, already on the phone. "What do you think she's going to say?"

Cho shifted his weight and considered. "No idea."

"Anyone else here yet?"

At that moment the elevator dinged and Wayne Rigsby strode out. Cho nodded in greeting to him. "Haven't seen boss or Jane yet."

Rigsby joined them. "Hey, guys"

"Good morning." Grace handed him his cappuccino a little shyly, all too aware of her engagement ring catching the sunlight.

A few minutes passed as the boys talked baseball. Grace watched Hightower hang up the phone. She glanced at the elevator, beginning to worry that Lisbon was going to be late, when footsteps from the other side of the room caught her attention. She turned to see Lisbon walking towards her office, duffel bag in hand and speaking softly into her cell phone. _Was her hair wet? _

She tuned back into the baseball conversation. Apparently the Giants had lost. She'd missed the game.

She looked over to Hightower again, and noticed she was watching Lisbon's office. Waiting for her, presumably. Now Lisbon was coming towards them, having dumped her duffel in her office and finished her phone call. Grace noticed her give a nod to Hightower. Her hair was definitely wet.

_What is going on?_

"Good morning agents". Hightower. She was holding her office door open. "Come on in."

They did.

* * *

Lisbon looked supremely grateful when handed her strong flat white. She took a seat and cradled it in both hands, one with three fingers sporting white medical tape. Hightower also expressed her thanks, looking slightly bemused. When they were all seated she leaned on the front of her desk in front of them.

"Thank you all for coming in so early. Let me start by telling you that I'm pulling you all off the Marr case."

Rigsby did little to hide his aggravation, and cast a glance round the room. Van Pelt and Cho seemed to echo his sentiment, in their own expressions. Lisbon, however, did not react. He felt a twinge of anger against the one team member that wasn't here. He found it odd to be having a meeting without Jane, but considering the circumstances, he wasn't surprised that Hightower had excluded him for the moment. He just hoped his absence didn't signal a lack of blame, as the golden boy seemed to be held on a pedestal by Hightower, unaccountable for his actions.

Madeleine didn't miss his snort of disapproval, and eyed him as she continued. "The reason for this has nothing to do with yesterday's events. As of right now you're all back on the Red John case."

That got Rigsby's attention.

The atmosphere of the room shifted instantly. As Hightower and, by turns, Lisbon, recounted the events of the night before, the early morning sunlight piercing the window was in sharp contrast to the cold feeling creeping into Rigsby's chest. He had little hope left when it came to Red John. The killer had outsmarted them too may times. He outsmarted Jane constantly, Jane who was the smartest person Rigsby had ever known. And now it seemed their dealings were no longer circumstantial.

Hightower paused, and then clasped her hands in front of her and looked at each of them carefully. "Let me revise what I said earlier. You are all back on the Red John case should you choose to be. In light of Red John's history, we must assume that this threat extends to all of you. Lisbon has chosen not to go into protective custody. You all have that choice. I want you to think carefully about -

"No thanks." Cho.

"Cho, please consider it." Hightower countered.

"It's been considered. I trust Lisbon. She's made her decision for a reason. Seems to me that she'd sooner trust us than the system. Maybe there's something you're not telling us. Either way, I'm staying right here."

Hightower shook her head slightly. She should have known. Cho had deduced exactly what she was trying to disguise for the time being. "All right… while we have _no evidence_, yet, it's likely that Red John has a contact within the CBI. We know he has a network of accomplices. He certainly had no trouble fooling us last time. If he can infiltrate CBI, it stands to reason he can infiltrate other law enforcement agencies. We have considered this scenario for some time."

"We?"

Director Bertram, Special Agent Laroche and myself."

Cho grunted. "Some time?"

Hightower's voice took on an edge. "Since the Johnson incident."

Cho knew he was being disrespectful. He didn't care, but he backed off because he had his answers for the time being, and because it was practical to do so.

Rigsby turned to Lisbon. "You think we can catch him, boss?"

_Before he…_

Lisbon looked at Rigsby for a long moment. He was a little taken aback at her expression, it seemed at once calculating and anguished. Unlike her usual air of practised calm.

"I think Jane can."

Rigsby swallowed this. Jane was a huge barrel of risks it seemed they could neither do with or without. Well he wasn't going to back down now. "I'll stay. I want the case."

Van Pelt opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated. She was clearly torn. "I… um…-"

"Take your time, Grace. It's your decision. No one is judging you."

_Yeah right. _She'd caught the look of incredulity Rigsby had shot her. The rational part of her mind knew he was still hurt over her engagement, and that was probably needing to be mad at her. But she also felt incredibly guilty that she couldn't decide. This was her team! They were like family. _But I also have family. And a fiance. I have a responsibility to them. To Craig. _She'd be putting herself in so much danger… she didn't deny that she was also terrified. But then, in witness protection, she'd lose everything. Who knows how long it would be for. Would they let her see Craig? Doubtful…

She looked around the room. The thought of losing any of them was unbearable. _Wayne…_

"No, I'm fine. I'm staying. I want to help catch this bastard."

She was sure. But she was still terrified.

"OK, then firstly, we'll need to establish some security for you all, within headquarters. Fieldwork will need to be treated with extreme caution. And I don't want any of you disappearing anywhere alone for the time being. We'll work out some arrangements today for your personal protection. That aside, we need to get started." She turned to a piece of paper on her desk. It contained the notes she'd jotted down during her phone call .

"I have some very preliminary results from the lab. The envelope, paper and ink are all standard Costco issue. I'm not expecting DNA to be found, but they're testing it all anyway. The blade is also being tested for toxins." She turned to Lisbon "It's a precaution. Your blood test came up clean. I'm sure it's nothing to be worried about."

Rigbsy didn't find this very reassuring. Red John had used poison before. He caught Van Pelt's eye momentarily; she looked horrified. He hesitated to look at his boss, not wanting to betray his alarm. He tried to make his glance casual, but it was unnecessary because Lisbon was just staring out the window. _She looks healthy enough…considering._

"What we do have is a security tape. It's terrible quality, and in a terrible position, but I'm having it sent over now. Van Pelt, you might be able to work some magic on it."

"Of course, ma'am."

"We'll need to question all the neighbours. It'd be best if Lisbon didn't do this," she looked over to her, "or even mentioned by name, they might feel emotionally inclined to help and exaggerate or create false memories. Rigsby and Cho, you up for it?"

"Yes ma'am" in unison.

"Don't go right away. We might be able to look at this tape first…"

She sighed. "The other thing is Jane. At present he is uninformed of the situation. I'd like it to remain that way until I work out how to discuss it with him. It won't be for long" she added, as she sensed a general reaction of uncertainty at the prospect of keeping something from Jane. "We'll need his insight as soon as possible. I just have concerns that he might feel the need to … do his own thing."

"Alright that's it for now, go and take a moment all of you. I will stress to you the importance of keeping this under wraps for the time being, we don't need the distraction of a gossip fuelled panic. Re-familiarise yourselves with the case, I'll deal with all the other matters. And no, Lisbon, you won't be assisting me. I want you to go to your office, unplug your phone and get some sleep."

Lisbon opened her mouth to protest but was silenced immediately. Hightower was adamant that she was of no use to anyone until she'd had a few hours rest. After that, she was promised, she would be free to work the case.

* * *

_Sorry the ending is a little abrupt, but it's 2:09 am and i've hit a wall. i'll update again as soon as possible _


	5. Chapter 5

Hey all, sorry i have not updated in ages. i basically kept getting stuck with this chapter, and then kept putting it off until finally a review the other day made me get off my butt and write again. so special thanks to visagoth, and to everyone else who has read/reviewed, you're all wonderful and i'll do my best to keep going with this story.

having said that, it is only a short chapter, but i'll try to do a longer one next.

* * *

Patrick Jane awoke to early sunlight bouncing off the window and an incredible ache all over. Apparently there was credit to the phrase _feeling run over by a horse_. For a while he stayed laid out on his makeshift bed, and watched the dust dance in the light. Listened for the sounds of a city coming to life. Listened to his thoughts.

Living in the attic, as he now basically was, had its advantages – irritating director Bertram just one of many. He now had ample time to make his way to the locker rooms downstairs, freshen up and then be ready in the bullpen for the arrival of the team. He rose and gingerly descended the stairs, necessities in hand. But before he reached the first landing he realised this morning was different. He processed the new information. _Keyboards working, smell of coffee, ... Van Pelt's perfume?_

_They're already here._

He continued on his way, peeking around the corner briefly to confirm his observations. Cho, Van Pelt and Rigsby were indeed all hard at work. _Interesting._

His morning routine completed considerably faster than usual, Patrick Jane strode into the bullpen twenty minutes later and appraised his colleagues.

They weren't angry with him anymore, he noted immediately. There was no trace of resentment in their movements. In fact, Rigsby was nervous. Nervous as hell. He was rigorously avoiding eye contact, even though he had definitely noticed Jane's entrance. Perplexed and amused, Jane casually moved closer. Rigsby fumbled with the file he was reading, and then hastily gathered it up and stood.

"Uh, guys I'm heading to the copier. Need anything? Morning Jane..."

"Morning Rigsby. Feeling alright?"

"Yeah, course, right as rain. You? How you been, man? You don't have any tea... maybe you should go make yourself some tea... you like tea..."

"I do." Jane's smile was wider now, revelling. Whatever was making Rigsby squirm, it was going to be fun to get out of him.

"Rigsby, copy this for me would you?" Cho held out a piece of paper and Rigsby grabbed it and fled.

"Morning Grace, Kimball. Nice day. Excellent deflection."

Cho ignored the jibe. Grace smiled a morning to Jane, it was controlled and well timed, almost natural. Jane waited patiently. Rocked back on his heels. Close to a minute later Grace caved in to the silence.

"I think I'm going to go-"

"Grace, quick, who do you prefer: the lion or the tin man?" Jane interjected,

"Uh... The tin man." Her eyes flicked first to Cho, then to Lisbon's closed office door.

"Cho, same question."

"Go away."

Jane grinned, then took a step back. "Go make your coffee Grace. Use the big pot. Hey could you please make me a cup of tea while you're there?"

"Sure." She stood awkwardly for a moment, uncertain, and then headed for the kitchen. Jane sat down in her chair and spun around. Then kicking up his feet he rolled over to Cho's desk.

"You know, for cops, you three make terrible liars. I guess that's a good thing, this side of the law and all."

Cho didn't respond. He had been careful to not have any Red John related paperwork out on his desk, and as soon as Jane had walked in he'd closed down the windows on his computer that he had been working on. Unfortunately that left the only other window open on the screen: an email about a sale at Bloomingdales. Elise's birthday was coming up.

Jane saw this and grinned at Cho expectantly. It was obvious that reading emails was not the reason the team were here so early. But then, Cho wasn't nearly as much fun to harass. He wouldn't squirm. Lisbon might. Speaking of Lisbon...

Jane stood and strolled over to peer in her window. The blinds were drawn, however. _Odd._

"I notice our fearless leader has barricaded herself in."

"She's busy."

"Busy... Private meeting? Bad hair day? Hangover?" Jane inched closer to her door as he threw out the words casually, watching for a reaction. He got one as his fingers touched the door knob.

"Don't... don't go in there, Jane, just leave it."

When he was met by Jane's impish grin once again, hands poised threatening to open the door, Cho added reluctantly "She's sleeping, alright. Leave it alone."

Jane chuckled. "Oh this is going to be good. What's the matter, Mashburn back in town?"

Cho looked blank. Jane, still resting on the doorknob, nearly fell over as the door was yanked open from the inside. Catching himself, Jane looked up sheepishly to see Lisbon looking not in the least amused, and slightly haggard.

"Lisbon! Morning! Uh... coffee?"

"You're an ass, Jane."

Without another word, she grabbed his sleeve and pulled him inside.


	6. Chapter 6

ok, so here is chapter 6. i have a test tomorrow that i have not studied for, but my room is clean, my laundry is done, and my fanfic is updated. it's amazing the things you find time for during exam period.

so thank you all for the amazing encouragement. i'm sorry i have not taken the time to respond to you all personally. in truth, this chapter was hard, so i kept putting it off, again and again. i'm ok with how it turned out, but i'm frustrated that my writing seems so emotionless sometimes. i wish i had an artistic grasp of words like some of the authors i read on this site. i wish i could embellish more. most of the time i feel like i am just writing script dialogue. it's funny, i often see things or read things and make changes in my head, think 'that's the way i would write that scene or have that play out', and it seems so simple. but it's not. anyway... now i have no reason not to study... ugh.

i do not own the mentalist.

* * *

"Ow... Ow! Careful with the threads woman!" Patrick smooths his sleeve back down and scans the room before turning to face her.

"Wow, Lisbon, if you really wanted to move in you know you're always welcome to join me in my attic."

He was exaggerating – Lisbon's office was as spartan as usual, with only the addition of a blanket tossed on the couch and her overnight bag sitting on the desk instead of in the cabinet where it was normally kept, in case of a short notice out of town trip.

He was, rather, waiting to see how she would respond. He expected something sarcastic and irritated, indicating she was hiding some embarrassing truth like a burst water pipe in her apartment, or, say, a night spent in someone else's apartment. But she gave him neither, instead she looked livid.

"Have you forgotten about the disaster you caused yesterday? You have some nerve to even come in here, let alone act like nothing is wrong." Her voice was icy, and she held his gaze.

"Well you dragged me in here, if I recall. I was minding my own business outside" _Not true..._

"You call that minding your own business?"

"You know, you have some nerve pretending to be mad, you're just covering up the fact that you can't lie to me! Your hands give you away. Hands in pockets are not angry hands, here..."

He reached forward to grasp her wrists and pull her hands out in front of her, then froze.

"What is this?" She tried to jerk her hand out of his grip but he held firm.

"It's nothing, geez, I cut my finger last night chopping vegetables." A second yank and a shove from her left arm freed her hand, but he advanced on her again, forcing her to back up.

"Chopping vegetables? Cooking?"

"Yes" Defiant.

"You don't cook."

"How the hell would you know?" She was backed up into the desk now. He had been right before, she had been pretending. Now though, feeling cornered and tired and scared, she was surprised at the venom in her own voice.

"No, really, Jane. Since you know everything, tell me what it is I'm supposedly hiding from you. What can you tell from a fucking bandaid?

_Whoa... back off. Re-evaluate._ Jane was surprised at the diversion. He stepped back, and she visibly relaxed. He studied her, and noted a flicker of dread in her eyes. She was afraid. Afraid of him finding out something. That narrowed the field of options considerably.

"It's him, isn't it. There's a Red John lead."

_He knew. Of course he would know. _Lisbon let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding.

"Yes."

Jane was stunned. "Tell me."

"Patrick, please, I'll explain everything to you but I need you to promise me that you won't do anything stupid. Ok? We need you. We need to be a team here."

Jane scoffed. "A team? You've all been doing your best to keep me in the dark. A pretty poor effort, by the way."

Lisbon closed her eyes. "Stop..."

"It's not a new case. We'd be out investigating, or _you'd_ allbe out investigating. That twerp Partridge would be lurking around... it's not anything in the evidence file, I've been over it a hundred times..." he was talking to himself more than to her.

"Patrick, stop."

He whirled around. "Don't _Patrick _me, _Teresa, _you of all people should have known-"

"It's always about you isn't it? You and your revenge... well it's not just about you anymore!" She realised she was raising her voice now and wondered vaguely if she could be heard in the bullpen. _To hell with it..._

"He was in my apartment, Jane."

That got his attention. Lisbon watched as his body seemed to slump, almost imperceptibly. He stared at her for what felt like hours.

"When?" His voice was quiet, unreadable.

"Yesterday, I think. He left me a letter."

"What... did it say?"

"I think... I think we should take this conversation to Hightower's office." She was stalling, failing miserably. She couldn't hold his gaze any longer.

"Teresa. What did it say?" Softer now.

She wondered vaguely when the use of first names between them had become so evocative.

"It was a poem." She breathed the words she didn't realise she'd memorised. " _In what distant deep or skies / Burnt the fire in thine eyes? / On what wings dare he aspire? / What the hand dare seize the fire?"_

With each word, Patrick felt an icy fear grip his heart, squeezing until his chest ached and he struggled to keep his composure. He stood stock still, barely breathing.

"Cho, uh, said it's William Blake." Lisbon added awkwardly. When he still didn't respond, she prodded. "Jane?"

He appeared to come back to life seamlessly. Reaching for her hand, he ran his fingers over her bandage and looked at her questioningly.

"He, um, got straight to the point." The joke was anything but funny.

"What else?"

"It said 'seven days'. Look we don't even know what it means yet..." she attempted to placate him but failed again. Jane closed his eyes, despair threatening to overcome him, and he tried to kick his brain into gear but one thing kept repeating over and over inside his head. _No, he can't have her too. _

He broke away from her sharply and stumbled back, wanting nothing more than to run from the room and get as far away from CBI, the team and her as possible. But it wouldn't make a difference. He felt utterly trapped, crushed by the weight of his own guilt and helplessness. Sheer force of will kept his panic from bubbling over, kept him from grabbing his colleague and putting her on the first plane to Switzerland, kept him from collapsing into a wrecked heap on the floor of her office.

He wondered how long his willpower would last.

"You have to go... far away. Out of California, out of the country" he eventually choked out.

"No. No, Jane, I'm not running away from this. What would be the point? He could follow me, or just wait till I come back... I can't- I won't leave forever. He could target Van Pelt, or Cho or Rigsby... this has to end sometime Jane, and if we know he's coming, in seven days... if that's even what this means. We have that advantage. We've never had an advantage on him before."

"At a huge risk!" Jane spluttered. "No, there is no way... you'll go into protection. Hightower will see to it..."

"Hightower doesn't want to trust anyone else with this information, got it? That includes protective services."

She didn't need to mention Kristina's name, they both felt the weight of her words. She hesitated before continuing.

"I don't want to trust anyone else with this, Jane. I trust you. I do. You understand Red John better than any crack protection detail could ever appreciate. You're brilliant, you make connections that no one else can. The last thing I want is to be miles away from you right now."

Patrick's face crumpled slightly. She wasn't feeling so composed herself anymore.

"Please, please don't distance yourself from me now, Jane. I need you" She heard her own voice crack, and the weight of the events of the night before suddenly seemed too much to bear.

As she struggled to blink back tears, Lisbon felt herself enveloped in Jane's arms. She tucked her head under his chin and breathed into his chest, breathing through the panic and the exhaustion and feeling his scent and his fierce hold on her slowly calm her.

Patrick held her against his chest for a long time, aware that her heart rate was slowing and her breathing becoming normal. Aware that he was, automatically, altering his own physiological responses in order to maintain his composure. Inside he was a seething, roiling mess of guilt and anxiety. Inside he was terrified.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey guys, I know I've been terribly absent. I don't really have an excuse. This chapter is also fairly short. While I'm not going to promise anything, because I've not been very good at keeping promises in the past, I can assure you that I am back in the mood for writing and have been thinking about this story a lot, so I think there will definitely be more to come in the near future assuming I stay in this frame of mind. I'm also approaching mid session exams so I will be taking every opportunity in the next few weeks to look like I'm studying while I'm really not (which writing is very good for). Hope you're all well . Here is chapter 7:

* * *

Two hours later, Patrick Jane was still in Hightower's office. He had said very little and offered no resistance to her as she outlined the plan. He had promised to be a good boy and to behave appropriately at all times. He had lied through his teeth, which he knew Hightower suspected, but short of locking him up, she had no choice but to trust him.

The plan. The plan was to put up the entire team indefinitely in a downtown motel; close to headquarters, closer to some of the seedier establishments Sacramento boasted. The advantage was that it had outward facing entrances and a vast surrounding parking lot that would be impossible to cross without being obvious to a surveillance crew. The cable wasn't bad either.

Beyond that, follow up on leads and keep Lisbon alive for the next eight days. Three simple rules for outmanoeuvring a serial killer. Hightower should write a book.

The quiet knock on the door could only belong to Van Pelt, laptop in hand. "We ran the tape through a grading filter, got a little more visibility. I found something. Well, it might be nothing, might be something."

She set the computer in front of them. "The camera belongs to a convenience store on the corner." She indicated to the screen "this is the intersection of Ninth and Avalon. Lisbon's unit block is off camera to the left, but here is the main path that leads straight to the front doors, and the mailboxes. The whole place is fenced along Avalon, and the only other access point comes from the underground parking lot - you can see part of the driveway just here. So anyone that walked up to the main doors from the road we'll see, but if they drove in or walked down the driveway and kept to the left..."

_Or knew the camera was there, jumped the fence, wore a hat and sunglasses... _Jane continued to himself.

"The footage runs on a 24hr loop, so we've got from around 4:20 am yesterday morning. Everything before that was deleted by the system. Lisbon didn't notice the photograph yesterday morning or before that, but then it's a pretty small detail and she hasn't been home much this week. Regardless, this is all the film we have. I've been through it and there wasn't much activity, but there is this guy at 11:36." She fast-forwards and the three of them wait in silence.

The image _was_ terrible. Jane could make out what seemed to be a male in jeans and a dark jacket, walking at the pace of anyone of average health between the ages of twenty and sixty. The figure crossed the street and headed straight down the path to the main doors. "He comes back out at 11:44 and goes back the way he came. Cho and Rigsby want to go and canvas the neighbours. I've checked the resident files, it doesn't seem like this guy lives there. Besides Lisbon's there are five other units. Two are owned by elderly couples, one is rented by two sisters in college, a single mum and her ten year old son just moved in on the ground floor. The last one is owned by a man in his forties but Lisbon thinks he's been away on a business trip for a few weeks now. She doesn't recognise the suspect either, but then it's hard to tell from so far away."

"Ok, Cho and Rigsby can go but tell them to come straight back here afterwards. I want you to go down to Tech Supplies and pick up some equipment, I've faxed them the request so it should be ready for you. Then you're on Lisbon watch." Hightower quirked a slight smile at this, knowing just about how eager Lisbon would be to have a babysitter.

"Jane and I are going to pay a visit to the real estate agency Lisbon leases from, see who might have access to keys." With that Hightower stood and motioned to the door, a clear signal for Jane and Van Pelt to leave the office ahead of her. As they reached the door, Hightower addressed Grace in a low voice. "I've asked LaRoche to take over my office for a few hours, while I help your team try to repair the Marr case. That's all he needs to know for now."

Grace nodded and watched as her boss and colleague disappeared round the corner, slightly resenting the fact that she was always left behind. But then she reprimanded herself, there were far more important things to worry about right now, and she would do her very best at whatever job she was given. She headed downstairs to Tech Supplies.

* * *

Lisbon couldn't sleep. Unsurprising, given this was her office, her place of work, and unlike Patrick Jane that meant staying awake and actually working. But she lay there nonetheless, listening to the muted sounds of the bullpen and trying to calm her thoughts.

By the time she'd left the hospital the sun was just beginning to glow on the horizon. She'd had the time to go home, but she didn't really want to face her apartment just yet. Instead she went straight to the office where she always kept a bag of clothes in case of a trip out of town. Once showered and changed, she had given in and called her brother James. He was a little surprised to be woken up by his sister from across the country. Once they'd started talking though, she realised she couldn't tell him anything; knowing James he'd probably turn up on her doorstep rifle in hand if he thought she was in any kind of danger. She didn't need that right now. Instead she covered for herself by apologising for the early hour, she was being called out of town for a case and would probably be out of touch for a while. Weak but he seemed to accept it. She couldn't help but add that the case had to do with a kidnapping, yes it might be silly but could he please watch out for Jack and anything suspicious, anything at all, could he call her right away. He promised he would. Now thinking about it she worried that she should have just told him the truth. But Red John had never killed outside California before, with the exception of Jared Renfrew, but that was different. Her gut told her that he wasn't going to start now, and that this was all to do with torturing Jane. And that particular line of thinking opened up a whole new can of worms.

She would ring her brother again once they had a little more information. No use worrying them for no reason...

Dean was in Europe on vacation, thankfully. He wasn't due back for three weeks. Tommy, well who knew...

What she desperately wanted was something to do. She wasn't used to sitting around. Hightower had all but locked her in her office, which was exactly what Lisbon would have done if the situation was reversed, but she knew that she was way too wired to get any sleep. Grace had shown her a picture earlier of a man headed in the general direction of her apartment block yesterday morning. She hadn't recognised him. But then she barely knew her neighbours, barely spent enough time at her home to notice anyone coming and going. He could be someone's boyfriend, brother, electrician... at present that was the only lead they had going. Not the most promising start to a case.

So she was left to her thoughts. And they kept coming back to the same thing. _Red John is going to try to find me and kill me. In seven days._

She supposed the message could mean something else. _Seven days til I give myself up. Seven days until the new Ipad comes out. _

She doubted it.

Why seven days? Why not today? He'd never given anyone forewarning before, that she knew of. It was sick. Did he want her to do something, react in some way, play into his game? Is he just that busy a serial killer that he likes to book his victims in advance?

Now she was just being ridiculous.

_Why me?_

Yes she was in charge of the team that had carried out the majority of the investigation against him. But they hadn't technically been on the case since Bosco had taken over. No one had. Minelli, Hightower, Larouche had all just seemed to ignore the fact that killing Bosco and his team seemed to indicate that Red John wanted to choose his own detectives. The case seemed to have been put aside, no one really knowing what to do with it, until yesterday. And, Lisbon thought wryly, they were nowhere near close to identifying Red John. He was still the cat, and they the mice.

She found that she felt quite calm about her impending death sentence. Was it just that it hadn't quite sunk in? She still had six days after all, plenty of time to become hysterical.

Besides, she was an agent of the CBI. She was surrounded by three excellent detectives, and Jane. She should be confident that the case would be solved. She should be thinking positively.

_Maybe that's it. Red John is being patronising. Giving us a week's head start. Insulting us._

_It's a hell of a deadline. _

She still didn't have a clear idea of why. Red John, in the past, has seemed driven either by his own sadistic pleasure or his unrelenting motivation to torment Patrick Jane. She knows she's not a random target. But is she that important to Jane? Why, though it makes her sick to think of it, did he not break into Van Pelt's home, leave her a letter? Or Cho or Rigsby?

Thinking about that gives her a headache. She looked at her watch. 11:04, time for some coffee.


	8. Chapter 8

I own nothing.

Ch 8

* * *

"So none of the neighbours recognised him?"

They were all assembled in a corner of the bullpen. Lisbon, Cho and Van Pelt seated a communal table, Rigsby was leaning against a nearby desk, and Hightower addressing the group. Jane was hovering nonchalantly near the large window, teacup in hand. Not seeming to be paying a great deal of attention, though the team knew better than to underestimate his methods.

Rigsby answered "Actually, while no one recognised him from the camera footage, a Shelly Grant, just downstairs from you boss, remembers passing a guy in the stairwell yesterday about that time. Said he was hot. We brought her in to do a sketch, but I don't know how helpful she'll be. Pretty vague on age and background. Not the brightest match in the box, if you ask me."

"Bulb" Cho corrected. They all stared at him. "Bulb in the box" He added, by way of explanation.

Rigsby scowled and countered "I'm sure it's match."

"I always thought it was crayon actually" Grace mused.

Lisbon pointedly cleared her throat.

Rigsby, sheepishly continued. "Whatever. Anyway, that's all we got. But it's gotta be our guy right?"

"Well if it is, then 'hot guy' really narrows it down."Hightower summarised. "Let's wait and see how that sketch goes. Meanwhile, how did he get in? He would have needed a key to the front door, or to be buzzed in. Jane and I talked to the real estate, but they don't keep spare keys." She looked expectantly and Cho and Rigsby.

"No one recalled letting in a visitor at that time. Two residents said they have spare keys with friends, we're still chasing up those leads now." Cho answered.

"Maybe he picked the locks?" Grace suggested. The group collectively shifted their gaze to Jane. He grinned momentarily at this recognition of expertise.

"Hmm, takes time to pick a lock. Even if you're pretty good at it, a couple minutes at least. And there were two doors, the main entrance and Lisbon's. It'd be tight."

"But possible" Hightower clarified. Jane made a noncommittal humming sound."Possible. But we're missing something rather obvious here." He looked at Lisbon, "Where do you keep your spare key?"

Lisbon sighed and replied "Top left drawer of my desk." The implication left a bad taste in her mouth. One glance around the group and it was clear the feeling was mutual.

"It's not that hard to sneak into your office. I do it all the time" Jane added, despite the fact no one wanted to hear it. Lisbon felt like throwing something at him. She restrained herself.

"Well, that's great then, we can check the security cameras here. See who's been in and out of Lisbon's office." Grace said enthusiastically. Hightower was already nodding. "Cho?"

The agent in question stood. "On it, boss." He strode out of the room, headed for the security offices on the lower floor.

Hightower turned back to Grace. "How'd you go with our supplies?"

"Got everything, ma'am."

"Excellent, then you and Rigsby go and set up the rooms. Be discreet."

They nodded and left. Only Lisbon, Jane and Hightower remained. "Alright, it's nearly two o'clock. That gives you enough time to review some of the footage Cho brings back, and then we'll need to get you all across town. Remember, you're officially working a new angle on the Marr case, which requires a sensitive undercover operation. That's all anyone needs to know. The gossip vine is way too active around here as it is. I'll be in my office if you need me." With that the director left. It wouldn't do for her to appear so actively involved in a case.

Jane finally stepped away from the window and sat across from Lisbon. He wanted to ask how she was doing. No, he wanted to put her in his car and keep on driving. Instead, he sat quietly.

She was fidgeting with a pen under the table. She'd been doing it the whole time. He extended his hand palm up on the table between them, and waited.

She ignored him at first, carefully looking everywhere but in his direction. After nearly a minute though, she wordlessly handed the pen over. He caught her hand in his and held it.

Her pulse felt steady, but there was a trace of tension in her arm. Classic Lisbon tension, wired for the defensive. She finally raised her eyes to meet his.

"You've called your brothers?" He knew she had, but asked anyway.

She relaxed minutely; it wasn't the question she had been expecting. "Dean's in France this month, for work. I spoke to James this morning. I didn't tell him anything though." She looked down at the table.

"You're worried about him."

"He lives in Chicago. I just... he has a little boy..." She almost controlled the crack in her voice.

"What if Red John goes after them." Jane voiced for her solemnly. Lisbon nodded, not trusting her voice this time. He took care not to hesitate, to keep his words light, reassuring. "Well it's unlikely, because it would be counterproductive to his goal. But you have friends in law enforcement in Chicago. Someone you can trust?"

Another nod. "Call someone. Call in one of those favours you people always seem to have at your disposable. No need to give details, I'm sure you can come up with some reason for a little friendly surveillance."

"Yeah, I'll do that." She could definitely do that.

"What about Tommy?"

She closed her eyes. _What about Tommy? _"I haven't seen him in four or five years. I don't even have a phone number. He moves around a lot."

"Then we'll track him down. We are detectives, remember?" He flashed one of his dazzling grins at her, and received a slight quirking of her lips and a derisive "well some of us are" in response.

"Good. Now, tea? This is no time for that dreadful stuff you drink." He started to get up, but was interrupted by her next words.

"What did you mean by 'counterproductive'?" She asked curiously.

"Well he's targeting you, Lisbon."

"We assume, but he didn't say that. The note just said seven days. And some drivel about wings and fire. We don't know what that means yet."

"Well I don't think it means anything good." His voice took on a mocking tone, almost sarcastic. She didn't take the bait.

"We _don't know_ what that poem means, do we?" She was staring at him intensely now.

He met her gaze smoothly. He could keep up the charade. He had no doubt that he could continue lying. But was there any point to keeping his knowledge of the Blake poem to himself anymore. He'd only done it in the first place to keep an aspect of the investigation private, to keep one crucial piece of the Red John puzzle to himself. And while part of that motivation was due to his egotistical desire to carry out his own vengeance, the other part of it was to prevent this exact situation occurring. To prevent Red John from discovering that he had anything more to lose. _And that train has already left the station. _

So he stared back at Lisbon, until the silence had gone on too long. Until it was clear to Lisbon that her implication was correct. That Jane knew exactly what the poem meant, and had known for... God knows how long.

The silence was interrupted by Cho, who had returned with the office security tapes. Jane waited for the accusation. Waited for Lisbon to demand an explanation from him. To inform Cho that he had been withholding pertinent information.

She simply turned her attention to the stack of discs Cho had put on the table and said "Let's get started."


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks for the reviews guys, here's the next chapter. I might just point out that as I started this story a while ago, I've had to keep up a few inconsistencies. Like Tommy, for example, who is going to be quite different than his character on the show because I had initially imagined him differently. And yes that is a hint that Tommy will be making an appearance. I've been trying to cast my mind back a few seasons, to reimagine the characters as I did when I started this fic, and I've done my best to minimise any major inconsistencies, but let me know if anything doesn't make sense.

Also, I wrote this chapter while listening to a great album by Radical Face, called The Family Tree. So that would be my recommended soundtrack for this chapter, if anyone's interested.

I don't own anything. Not the characters, not the poems, not even my car.

* * *

Three hours of tape later and Lisbon was ready to start pulling her hair out. Even on fast forward they had only gotten through the last four days of her constantly going in and out of her office. In addition they'd seen Jane break in twice, Van Pelt, Rigsby and Cho coming and going as expected, the mailroom guy (who was much less attractive now that he'd grown a beard), the office assistant Ron and Larouche had also all made brief appearances, but only while she had been in there. They had no timeframe with which to work with – her spare key could have been lifted from her office, copied and replaced at virtually any time, it's not as though she constantly checked for its whereabouts. Which left endless amounts of security footage to trawl through. It could have happened months ago, for all they knew. _Oh look, there's Jane breaking into my office, again. _She glared daggers at him.

"Hey, the door was open that time. I was only coming in to tell you some important case related business. I didn't know you weren't in there." He defended himself.

"Jane, the walls are made of glass. And now that you've clearly seen I'm not in there, what the hell are you doing going through my filing cabinet?"

"I was checking to see that you had your paperwork in order."

Cho smirked. "Try again."

"I also might have... borrowed a warrant to copy and alter." Jane muttered.

Lisbon closed her eyes and silently counted to five. She kept going to ten when she heard Jane add "You shouldn't get so worked up woman, you're under a lot of stress at the moment."

She ought to rat him out right now, the bastard had been keeping information from them for months. But something in his eyes made her pause, made her think that maybe this was not the right time to bring his deceit out in the open. Something in his eyes made her trust that he knew what he was doing. Trust that he wasn't just using her for the target on her back; for the value she represented in his quest for blood. She would question him later about the poem.

Halfway through the fifth day of video footage they were interrupted by the click of Hightower's low heels as she approached. "Well the sketch was a disaster. Miss Grant couldn't remember any details for sure. We have male, Caucasian, late twenties and that's about it. Said his hair was brown, but couldn't remember if it was dark or light, just _brown._" She shook her head, clearly frustrated. "The girl is a twit, if I may speak plainly."

Lisbon raised her eyebrows, having never heard her boss speak so 'plainly' before. In a way, she was impressed. Hightower was always so strictly professional, she sometimes didn't seem human. But she was dismayed that they didn't have a sketch. It felt like they were back to square one.

"We haven't found anything yet on the tapes, but we've only gone back five days." Lisbon reported. "We have about a month's footage, anything before that will have to be dug out of archives."

Hightower nodded, then turned to Jane. "You've been very quiet all afternoon, Patrick."

"An astute observation, my dear." He answered smoothly, matching her stare.

"I have to admit it worries me, when you're so quiet."

"Well then let me assure you, that you have nothing to worry about." His voice was light, though there was a subtle edge to it.

Cho eyed the two of them, impatiently. "Really Jane? No thoughts?"

"Oh I have many thoughts. But I'm not yet finished thinking them. You'll be the first to know, when I do." Another charming smile, and it was clear to the three Agents that the topic was closed for now.

Hightower sighed. "It's getting late, and this has been a long day. Let's call it a night. Van Pelt and Rigsby have the surveillance set up at the motel. I suggest you head there now, while it's still light."

They took the tapes with them.

* * *

"Seriously guys, I'm fine. Stop hovering."

They were gathered in one of the two rooms Hightower had secured for them, joined by a connecting door. They had surveillance cameras fixed on every angle of the car park as well as the stairwells leading up to the mezzanine level of the motel. Those images were set up on a range of screens positioned by the window, where one of them would be on stakeout duty at all times. Right now it was Van Pelt's turn, and Lisbon, Cho and Rigsby were trying to arrange a roster system for the night. Or rather, Lisbon was trying to include herself in that system, and Cho and Rigsby were having none of it. Lisbon had just turned around and slapped Rigsby away from his position behind her chair; he'd been shadowing her none too subtly ever since they'd gotten there. Jane had been sitting quietly most of the night with a dark look on his face. Van Pelt and even Cho had been shooting her worried glances every five minutes, as though she were going to drop dead or have a meltdown right in front of them. She didn't want to snap but the routine was driving her nuts.

Rigsby tried to explain. "We don't need you, boss. A three man team works well. Grace will take eight till eleven, Cho eleven til three and I'll do morning shift. Four hours each and we'll still get plenty of sleep, and you get to relax and just focus on..." his voice trailed off as Lisbon glared daggers at him.

"Focus on what? The calendar? The fact that I can't walk three feet without running into one of you? You three are supposed to be in your own room anyway, this isn't a middle school sleepover!"

"We'll be sleeping in there, just coming over here to keep watch." Cho clarified, matter of factly.

"I'm not just going to sleep all night while you guys are working overtime." Exasperated, she ran a hand through her dark hair and tried desperately to think of a way to turn around this argument that she was clearly losing. She was used to being in charge, but somehow she didn't think pulling rank on her colleagues was going to work in this case. Cho had that solemn yet resolute look on his face that he usually reserved for victims or ignorant witnesses. She might get his sympathy, but she would not get his cooperation right now. Van Pelt was carefully staying out of it, but Lisbon suspected she was betting against her right now. _'Hell I would probably bet against me too' _she thought bitterly.

The trouble was that she felt fine. She didn't feel like a victim, she didn't feel much of anything right now. Was that normal? She tried to joke "Besides, it's only day one, we've still got six more days until its show time."

As soon as she'd said the words she regretted them. Jane looked as though he'd just been slapped. She was suddenly overwhelmed with claustrophobia and guilt. She pushed her chinese takout box away from her, no longer hungry, and stood up abruptly. "I just need some space" she muttered as she strode towards the main bedroom, mainly because it was the door in the cramped space that she could shut behind herself, besides the bathroom of course.

Not even Rigsby felt like eating anymore.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Cho and Rigbsy having retreated to the men's quarters and Van Pelt settled in front of the window, Jane found himself knocking quietly on Lisbon's door. When he heard a murmured 'come in' he entered to find her sitting cross legged on the bed, laptop in front of her. She looked up briefly, and then turned her attention back to the screen.

He stood awkwardly for a few moments. He had a good idea of what she was looking up, but no real idea of how to start that conversation. He didn't have to, as it turned out.

"Can you shut the door please."

He did, and then sat down on the end of the bed, not quite facing her but not quite turned away.

"Want to know what I'm looking at?" she asked, not impolitely.

"I assume you're not on facebook." He got a small laugh out of her, before she became serious again.

"William Blake. Spill."

Jane hesitated momentarily. "The poem is called 'The Tyger'. It was part of the Songs of Experience collection he published in 1794. The passage Red John wrote to you was the second stanza. He quoted to me the first, while I was clingwrapped to a chair in that godforsaken hotel in Salinger Mill."

Lisbon took this information in silently.

"The Tyger is a creature of both horrific violence and beauty. It is a reflection of its creator, its God. Blake writes _what immortal hand or eye could frame thy fearful_ _symmetry_? What kind of a God has given rise to this benevolence? As though nature requires this balance of evil in the world, as though the tiger is some kind of divine servant."

"And Red John sees himself as the tiger?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yes. I believe he does."

"What about Todd Johnson?"

"He spoke two words to me before he died - "tyger tyger". One word twice, I guess you could argue. Still, I don't think it was coincidence. Add to that the fact he was a psychopath, with a taste for cop blood, I dare say Red john would have found him a useful tool at times."

For the first time Jane looked up at Lisbon. Noted how vulnerable she looked, sitting like a schoolgirl in her bedroom. The harsh light emanating from the laptop made her freckles stand out more than usual, and she looked bone tired. It was a painful reminder that he had one more thing to tell her, the one thing that the day's events had confirmed in his own heart.

"William Blake had another poem - a sister poem of sorts - called The Lamb. It's almost a child's song, lyrically... _Little lamb who made thee, dost thou know who made thee?... _and so on. It speaks of innocence, mildness, purity. The opposite of the Tyger. I... uh... at first I thought that perhaps he meant to taunt me. That Charlotte was the lamb." His voice faltered, his throat constricting as it always did when he thought of his little girl, his princess. After a few moments, blessing Lisbon's eternal patience, he continued.

"But taunting only really works if the person has something to lose. Someone to lose."

Lisbon took a moment to catch up. "You think I am the lamb?"

His anguished silence was answer enough. Lisbon could almost taste the self loathing emanating from his being,

"Lisbon, I am so, so sorry for putting you in his path. If I hadn't -"

She interrupted, incredulously. "What are you talking about?"

"He found out that I have you to lose Lisbon."

Lisbon scoffed gently. "I'm touched, Mr Narcissism. Come on, we've been through this before. I'm a cop, Jane. We all are. This is our job." She unfolded her legs and scooted over next to him, resting her hand on his knee reassuringly.

"You've got to stop punishing yourself for every bad thing that happens. So Red John hates you. So what? That's old news. You are not, _not _responsible for the actions of a psychotic serial killer. I don't want to hear it. You think we don't understand the risks associated with taking on the Red John case? After what happened to Bosco?"

She knew he wasn't accepting a word of it. He shook his head gravely, and whispered "I will never forgive myself if he lays a hand on you."

"Well then you're forgetting one important detail, genius." He looked at her questioningly.

"This lamb's carrying a glock."


	10. Chapter 10

Ok guys here we go with the next chapter. Thanks for being so patient with me. I know I can take forever.

Halfway through this chapter, motivation took a nosedive, and then I got a little distracted with another story. And then I had a bit of a blow to my confidence when my other story got a much smaller response than I was expecting (sad face). But then I decided to get over it, and now I am back on track (happy face).

Thanks so much to those who reviewed the last few chapters. I really appreciate it, and I'm so glad you like the story so far.

I don't own anything

* * *

Lisbon did sleep. She woke to impossibly bright sunlight lancing through the grimy window. She was still fully dressed, on top of the sheets and her laptop was still open beside her, precariously close to the edge of the bed. She sat up and retrieved the computer, flipping it shut.

Grace was still asleep in the other bed. She checked her watch – 6:34.

She remembered her outburst the night before. She remembered her conversation with Jane. She remembered that it was now day two. All of these thoughts were going to require a shower, and coffee, before revisiting. Grabbing some clean clothes from her overnight bag (her last pair, she made a mental note to go by her apartment today), she quietly left the room.

Rigsby and Jane were sitting at the window. She muttered a good morning, trying to bite back the feeling of claustrophobia at having her team in such close proximity at all times. She'd always enjoyed her privacy, having had a childhood that was anything but. _They're here to protect you, Lisbon. Because they care about you, and because it's the job._

The implication that she needed protection was still hard to swallow. To accept.

Because accepting it meant facing the very real possibility of bleeding to death, slowly and painfully, at the hands of a psychopath in approximately five days.

That thought was too much too face right now.

* * *

Half an hour later they were all seated around the small table in Lisbon and Van Pelt's room. Lisbon had gathered them on the pretence that "Jane has something to tell you all." Now she sat back, coffee in hand (black this time, no sugar), and listened to Jane reluctantly give his poetry lecture again, this time to the whole of the team. Lisbon had insisted that all information from now on was to be shared with the group – no exceptions. She'd told him so, quite harshly, as soon as she'd finished showering and dressing. She didn't feel bad; Jane had basically concealed evidence. She was going easy on him, if anything.

Room service muffins were on the table, and though she wasn't hungry Lisbon picked at one anyway, conscious of the close watch her team had on her. They had the webpage she'd been reading from last night open again, and the others were passing the laptop around the table as Jane outlined his theories.

Rigsby scowled. "I always hated reading this stuff at school."

Lisbon had to agree. She'd never been much good in English lit class; all the fancy phrasing and symbolism annoyed her. People should just say what they mean.

Cho, unsurprisingly, seemed riveted by the passages on the screen in front of them. He traded remarks with Jane about syntax and form much to the oblivion of the rest of the team.

In an unusual turn of events, it was Van Pelt that eventually cut in, a little impatiently, to bring the conversation back on track."Ok, so it's pretty obvious that Red John identifies strongly with these poems. But what does that tell us about what he plans to do?"

Jane cocked his head in a vague shrug. The truth was, he didn't know. He'd spent months with this poem weighing on his mind, analysing it, trying to figure out how it could lead him to Red John. And he'd never seen this situation coming. There were just too many possibilities. The poems were not going to give them a clear answer, and more importantly, were not going to protect Lisbon. They were a good insight into the mind of the killer, but that was all.

The team separated a few minutes later, to grab everything they needed for the office that day, and to make sure the surveillance was all set up to operate while they were out. As Lisbon moved the coffee mugs and plates to the sink Grace sidled up to her. Lisbon tried not to tense up as she anticipated the question.

"Boss, are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Grace." She forced a smile, and then turned back to rinsing the dishes.

"Are you sure? Because you seem a little edgy." She seemed to realise her mistake when Lisbon exhaled sharply, clearly annoyed. Grace continued hurriedly.

"I mean, it's completely understandable... No one expects you to be so..."

Lisbon looked up sharply. "Be so _what_?"

Grace hesitated, trying to find the right word. "Unaffected."

The word echoed in Lisbon's ears. _Her team thought she was unaffected? Or at least acting that way. Was that true?_

She didn't know. She didn't know how she was affected by this. The only thing she felt right now was irritation.

She lowered her voice. "No, you all seem to want me to fall apart."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Grace said softly.

Lisbon blinked, incredulously. "How would that be helpful, in any way?"

She knew she was being unfair. Grace looked down at her hands, unsure now of what to say. "I don't know, boss. Maybe you'd feel a little less stressed if you..."

"Look, Grace, I know you're just trying to help. But please, I can't... I just don't see how having a heart to heart is going to bring us any closer to solving this case. It's not going to change anything. I just need to work, ok? We need to finish going through the security tapes, we need to go over the Todd Johnston files, and Kristina Frye's, and I need to find my brother..."

She stopped, squeezing her eyes shut. _That was it, that was all they had to go on... it was nothing!_ She felt the beginnings of a migraine set in, and silently pleaded that Grace would take the hint and leave her be for now. She did.

"Of course. Just, if you need anything... you know I'm here right."

"Yeah", tersely. " Thanks Grace"

Van Pelt left the kitchenette awkwardly and Lisbon returned her gaze to the cup she was holding, taking a moment before turning the tap on to continue washing up. She had to tighten her grip on the mug to stop her hands from shaking slightly.

* * *

By midday there were still no developments, and Hightower was anxious. It was getting harder and harder to keep under wraps. She'd so far managed to brush any enquiring comments off from both LaRouche and Bertram, under the guise that the entire Serious Crimes Unit was working overtime and undercover on an important case, and could not afford any distractions right now. That had meant that the team had enjoyed a rare amount of privacy within headquarters, including the use of a conference room.

This morning, however, LaRouche had casually asked Lisbon about the break-in at her apartment. That was something she couldn't avoid people finding out about; cops talk between units. She had made sure that the analysis on the letter and envelope was conducted by a personal friend, and no mention of Red John was included in the report.

While Teresa had reacted quite smoothly to LaRouche's question, bless her, she was an awful liar. And LaRouche was almost as good as Jane at picking up agitation. Agitation that had been radiating from Lisbon all day. Now he was standing in her own office, with his usual smug air about him, wondering aloud why she had been the first person on the scene at a simple break-in.

"Lisbon called me, I stopped by." She kept her voice low and even.

"Why wouldn't she just phone the local PD herself? She's a big girl."

"I'm her boss. We'd just finished up a late meeting, she was tired and I was probably the first number in her recent calls."

LaRouche made a small, high pitched humming noise, cocking his head like the Cheshire cat. "It's interesting, for a break-in. I hear nothing was taken. In fact, there was no evidence to suggest anyone was even in the apartment."

Hightower groaned inwardly. The photograph hadn't been turned over to the local cops either. She now realised just how odd the whole thing appeared to an outsider. State agent reports a break-in, calls in her boss directly, and yet local PD collects no evidence to support the claim. She'd been counting on the fact that no one would look too closely at the matter. Clearly she'd underestimated LaRouche's innate suspicion of everyone and everything.

She divulged a little more, hoping it would be enough.

"Lisbon received a personal threat, a letter. The contents of which are pertinent to an ongoing case, a highly sensitive one at that. I'm sure you understand that details ought to be kept confidential at this stage, though we anticipate a major break in the next few days." She was careful to maintain eye contact, and keep her voice friendly but firm.

A long pause, then La Rouche nodded slightly.

"Of course. Best of luck. I have a lot of work to do myself so..." he turned towards the door.

"How is your investigation going, JJ? If you don't mind my asking."

He turned back around slowly. Fixed his beady eyes on hers. "Time will tell, Madeleine. Time will tell."

As he exited her office Hightower sighed. _That man is impossible._

LaRouche became the least of her problems however, when less than an hour later her phone rang.

* * *

"I've had to bring Director Bertram in on this." She announced stiffly to the team. They were all gathered in the adopted conference room.

Jane looked scandalised."You what?"

"Not my choice, Patrick. He knew we were hiding a Red John lead. He's on his way down here now."

"How did he know?" Jane still was the only one to speak up, voicing what they were all thinking.

"I suspect LaRouche told him. He was questioning me about it earlier."

"So LaRouche too then..." Jane stood up abruptly from his chair and began pacing the room.

"Jane calm down, is it really so big a deal?" Lisbon said soothingly, although she too felt dread at the thought of Bertram coming on board and heading up the investigation. She was far more comfortable doing things their own way, her own way. There was no chance that the director would continue letting her call the shots. He might take the case off of them, even order her into protective custody... surely Hightower wouldn't let him do that. She briefly wondered how much trouble Hightower was in for keeping this quiet.

"The more people that become involved, the more risky it is for everyone. He'll take over Lisbon, we do not want that."

"Well it's done now, Jane, and besides, we have _nothing_! We have no leads." It was true, they'd gone back weeks in the video footage and found no trace of anyone breaking into Lisbon's office to get her key, if that was even how the intruder had gotten in. In addition, Van Pelt and herself had been trying to track down Thomas Lisbon all morning, for no good reason other than that she wanted to make sure he was safe. It had also been fruitless so far. She sighed, adding weakly "Have you considered that Bertram and LaRouche might actually have some helpful insight? They're not special agents for no reason."

Jane looked at her, anguished. He couldn't pinpoint exactly why he felt so apprehensive, so convinced that this was a very bad idea. His brain was spinning in circles trying to process the options available to him, but for some reason panic was slowly taking precedent over everything else right now. He hesitated, before slowly, carefully choosing his words. "I just don't trust anyone outside this circle."

It was Cho who spoke up first."Then don't. You don't have to trust him, you just have to work with him."

Van Pelt smirked a little, adding "Yeah Jane, it's never stopped you before."

Jane knew they were right. There was no going back now. Bertram was already making his way down the hall. Hightower turned to Lisbon, asking what there was to report. Lisbon could only shrug her shouders dejectedly. The door swung open, and the director stepped in.

"Well, well, well..." He started, looking at each person in turn. "I trust you all know why I'm here."

"Sir, let me apologize -" Lisbon was interrupted by Bertram waving his hand.

"No Lisbon, don't apologize. I understand completely. After all you must be feeling a tremendous amount of stress right now. I can't even imagine." He moved to stand behind her chair, placing a cold hand on her shoulder. His voice dripped with overplayed sympathy. "I'm certainly not going to hold you accountable for your poor judgement at this time."

Van Pelt watched silently as her boss' boss'... boss ... crooned over Lisbon, who cringed at the touch of his hand. Sure, Lisbon was a little stressed out right now, but Grace didn't like where Bertram was going with this. His insincerity made her feel nauseous. _The man really is a worm_...

Bertram continued. "No, you my dear, you shouldn't even be working right now. You're far too vulnerable."

Lisbon bristled at the implication. "I'm fine, sir. If you'll just let us outline the developments..."

She was interrupted again by Bertram's soft laughter. "Lisbon, Lisbon... you cannot take lead on your own case. I won't allow it. It's a direct violation of policy, besides, and I am astounded that you have been allowed to proceed in an active role thus far." His attention turned to Hightower then, who stood silently near the door, expression unreadable. There was no mistaking the menacing edge his voice had taken on. After a moment he turned back to the group and barked "Cho, consider yourself promoted. You're the new lead on this case. What do we have so far?"

Cho looked to Lisbon, who nodded softly at him. He then icily outlined the progress so far. It didn't take long. Bertram took this all in, then asked the question they were all dreading. "So what's next, agent Cho? How do you plan to proceed?"

"Rosalind Harker." It was Jane who'd spoken.

All eyes turned to him, surprised. He shrugged casually, and said again. "Rosalind Harker. I mean, it's obvious isn't it?"

Hightower looked at him curiously. "What is obvious, Jane?"

"Well, she's the one person that we know is close to Red John, and she conveniently can't identify him. I'd say it's highly likely that he's made a visit to her recently, and it's worth questioning her."

Bertram wasn't convinced. "She'd been instructed to notify CBI immediately if and when Red John makes contact. She hasn't done so."

Patrick sighed dramatically, as though he were speaking to a dim witted child. "She's in love with the man, _and _she doesn't believe for a moment that Roy Tagliaferro is Red John. The mind sees what it wants to see, as it were. She's probably made contact plenty of times and never told us. Why would she?"

"I see. Well have you checked her out yet?" Bertram looked a little annoyed. Patrick had no doubt that he had planned to reassign the case as soon as it was clear they had made no progress. Well, _there would be progress all right._ He was still working out the finer details, but he could already feel that it was going to work. He made a show of looking at Cho in exasperation.

"We were just discussing paying Rosalind a visit before the cavalry rode in." He gestured grandly to Bertram, and then flashed his most charming smile at the man, knowing it irritated him. "Cho wanted to check the phone records first, but really, this is Red John we're talking about. He wouldn't be so careless as to call her landline, and I doubt Rosalind has a cell. No, he'd just turn up like a gentleman caller."

Cho played along flawlessly. "That's right sir. Jane and I were planning on heading out, while Rigsby and Van Pelt continue going through the security footage and track down Lisbon's brother."

"If you leave now you'll beat traffic." Rigsby supplied helpfully.

"Alright... sounds good." Bertram consented warily. "Call me as soon as you have any information." With that he turned back to Lisbon. "I'd suggest you go home, agent Lisbon, but that's obviously not the best idea. Why don't you all run me through this slapped up safe house you've got going on, see if we can't tidy up this mess a little."

Van Pelt fought the urge to roll her eyes, Rigsby looked thoroughly insulted and Lisbon simply smiled diplomatically as Cho and Jane left the room. It was going to be a long afternoon.


End file.
